And We Changed the Ending
by LightOutOfDarkness
Summary: "There are two sides to every love story." So what was Elise's side? When Elise meets Jamie, it soon becomes evident to Elise that nothing will ever be the same for either of them. Based on the musical, The Last 5 Years
1. Writer's Block

**A/N:**** I do not own The Last 5 Years or any of the characters - that credit goes to Mr. Jason Robert Brown****. I know plenty of TL5Y fans are Elise haters. And I can't blame them. But I had a thought one day - what if Elise **_**wasn't**_** "evil" and actually had **_**feelings **_**(I know, "gasp!", right?). Ergo, this fic was born!**

**(And yes, each of the chapters have something to do with writing or office supplies. *cough* symbolism, eh? *uncough* Keep a close eye on that. ;) ).**

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><p>"Well, you can tell Mr. Ross that what <em>I <em>do is strictly business. When he has a better deal to offer me, _then_ we'll talk."

"Ms. Mcfield?"

Elise swerved her head around to see Jen, the intern, at her doorway with a manila envelope. Elise, occupied at the moment, held up a finger before the intern could utter another word.

"No, I can't do Friday, I have a conference to attend to," Elise continued on the phone. "How about Wednesday? ...What do you mean he can't make it? ...Well, if you have strap Mr. Ross on the next plane to New York, then do it - I could care less. I'll only be available on Wednesday. Make it work." Elise abruptly hung up. She looked up at Jen. "Yes?"

"New manuscript came in for you, Ms. Mcfield."

Elise sighed deeply. _Probably more crap_, she thought. "Alright, set it down."

Jen promptly placed the envelope on Elise's already cluttered desk. She then handed Elise a coffee cup.

"Your coffee, Ms. Mcfield."

Elise nodded, taking the Styrofoam cup in her hand and sipped. "That will be all, Jen." The intern left almost as quickly as she came.

Elise opted not to open the envelope and instead stood up from her desk, taking a well-deserved stretch. Coffee in hand, she went over to the window and looked out at the skyline. The sun was shyly peaking out from behind the sleek buildings and skyscrapers. Its face was smothered with the gray and gloomy clouds that hung in the sky. New York was just waking up, but of course Elise found herself already flooded with work. From the office, she could just make out the green of Central Park, hidden behind trees whose emerald leaves were starting to become tinged with auburn. So summer was ending. Elise sighed inwardly. Even so, there would still be work. Some things would never change.

Day in and day out, the office was Elise's second home. She considered her work her life. Who needed food when you could have crisp paper and words crackling with energy? What use was there for air when you could wallow in the smell of fresh ink and the mirage of sultry imagery?

In truth, however, it was a strange living that Elise made, criticizing other writers' work for their use of grammar or their characterization abilities. It could be an annoying occupation, she had to admit - having to put up spineless characters, shitty descriptions, and pitiful vocabulary. Thank God that at least the pay was good. Rare were the times that Elise would find an actual literary jewel. But when those moments of discovery _did _happen, it was like a triumph for Elise, as if she were a Christopher Columbus searching for the next, most remarkable, new domain of literature...

"Ms. Mcfield?"

Elise rolled her eyes, thankful that at least the intern could not see her do so.

"What is it, Jen?"

"Er- more paperwork for you to sign."

Elise let out another sigh, one of the countless many that escaped her lungs every day.

It was going to be a long day.

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><p><em>Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.<em>

Elise watched the rain paint watery patterns on the glass windows. She sat alone in the bar, her glass already half-empty. From inside, she watched people under umbrellas hurriedly make their way along the streets. The sidewalks were coated with rain, and gleamed silver under the bright lights of the city, with murky puddles forming here and there. It was a cold, wet night.

The bartender saw Elise's glass and refilled it. He was on good terms with her, and knew she would come in most nights to escape the load she had endured for the day. Elise nodded her thanks, and lifted the glass to her lips. The door to the bar opened, and a rush of cold blew in. Elise shivered, and glanced behind her to see a couple taking a seat at the booth opposite hers. They were young, probably in their early twenties. They were laughing and seemed very content with one another's company. Elise observed them out of the corners of her eyes. The girl's eyes were earnest and longing. She probably thought herself to be in love with the man she was with. She laughed too much and it irritated Elise's ears. The young man's face was just as open, wide eyes giving away his obvious infatuation with the lady. Elise noticed that his eyes kept flicking back and forth, from the girl's face... to her chest. Elise suppressed the urge to snort. _Girl wants love, guy wants sex. Typical. _This was exactly the reason why she did not date. Most men were like the ones who just happened to be sitting next to Elise right now. Why did everyone with a Y chromosome have to be a pig?

Elise stared into her glass, empty again. Her own reflection stared back at her. When was the last time she had had a relationship? She could not recall. It must have been in high school, before college, before her career. Before she had found her passion in books. Elise was not one of those hopeless romantics. Not the damsel in distress type. Even so, she would divulge in a love story once in a while. Elise was perturbed with the idea that romance could be perfectly portrayed in novels, but that it was so lacking and complicated in real life. In _her_ life...

_I am _not _lonely_, Elise tried to firmly tell herself. Well, that was a load of crap. Literary colleagues were her family, books were her best friends, and the office was her home. She had become the sore, bitchy workaholic, the sorry ass at the bar that everyone pitied. _Just watch_, Elise thought, _You'll end up as a cat lady one day. _She thumbed the base of the glass. She blamed the alcohol for her depressed mood.

Elise soon grew nauseated from the sight of the lovesick couple at the adjacent table. She paid for her drinks and left the bar. The air was awfully chilly and humid. She hugged her arms in her chest in an attempt to keep herself warm. Her heels clicked along the wet asphalt with an urgent rhythm as she hurried down the avenue in lone strides. Further down the dark street, a homeless man in rags was sitting by a dumpster.

"Hallo tharr, Miss." The man smiled with toothless gums. "Can you spare a penny?" He held out a grimy, withered hand expectantly. Elise tried to ignore him and quickened her pace.

She hailed a taxi, and told the driver the address to her apartment. She rode the elevator up, all twenty-nine floors, alone. She got to her door and unlocked it, and strolled inside. The lights were off, and the darkness only seemed to make the vast, empty room all the more hollow. Elise flipped a switch, and stepped into a luxurious living room that was all too large for one person.

By time Elise crawled into her queen-sized bed, it was close to midnight. She stared up, and watched the lights from passing cars that played on the highly elevated ceiling. Their hypnotizing dance soon lulled Elise to sleep.

* * *

><p>She dreamt that night.<p>

Gruff hands thrust her into an empty room in the tallest tower. She begged her jailors not to lock her away forever, but their ghoulish faces only sneered and cackled at her. They swung the heavy iron door closed, and she heard the sharp click of the key and lock. In rags, she feel to the floor sobbing. The stone was cold and seemed to suck the warmth and life out of her, and the high, looming gravestone walls crowded her. She cried out and screamed, the claustrophobia eating at her like a demon, stealing the air out of her lungs. She managed to lift herself up onto her knees, but only just. There was only one window in the tower. It was tiny, a pathetic excuse for a window, built too high for her reach. Thorns and storm clouds obscured the the sky from being seen from the window. So this was what prison felt like.


	2. Rough Drafts

_REEEET. REEEET. REEEET. REEEET. _

Elise awoke to the bleating noise of the alarm clock. Its noise pierced her ear, jolting her from her slumber. She groaned, and looked over at the nightstand with drooping eyes. _6:00,_ the clock read in blinking red letters. Elise reached over to pound the alarm clock off as she always did. She slammed it too hard, for it loudly clattered to the floor, giving one last pathetic buzz. Elise groaned again, louder this time. _Damn it._

Elise dragged her legs out of the covers and sat up to look at the wreck in front of her. She bent over and picked up the clock - or rather, what was left of it. Shards of plastic lay on the floor and the batteries gave way in her hand. She looked into the clear screen of the clock. The lights that made up the numbers were out, and Elise could only see her own eyes glaring back at her through the shattered plastic display.

_Lousy piece of shit. _She shook the mangled clock, as if by force she could magically make it work. _That's what I get for twenty dollars. _She set aside the clock mournfully, and cleaned up the mess on the floor. She would have to buy a new clock later.

She got out of bed, and walked to the bathroom. She bent over the sink and splashed her face with cold water, the shock of its frigidness making her senses sharper and the world around her more lucid. As she got ready for the day, putting on makeup and getting dressed, she looked out onto the streets from her window. She observed the hustle and bustle of the road, the morning commute, the streets beginning to congest. She hurried down the stairs, made a pass at the kitchen, grabbing a bagel and stuffing it in her mouth. So much for breakfast. Elise grabbed her briefcase resting on the chair and bolted through the door. _Another busy day awaits you,_ Elise encouraged herself almost with a forced sense of excitement, swallowing down the last of the bagel.

Elise's apartment was on 56th street, a part of the elaborate complex that was Park Imperial - superior and prestigious. The apartment complex's close proximity with the company's building was convenient and made getting to work less of a hassle. Elise made it to the elevator and rode down to floor fifteen and strode into the lobby, walking past the making for her office. Fellow workmates murmured their "Good morning's," and Elise nodded her response. Jen the intern was waiting for her at her office's door, Elise's morning coffee in her right hand and more dreaded envelopes in her left. Elise took the coffee from her, relieved to have caffeine in her system. Elise's world was work and books, and that world ran on caffeine, late night drinks, and paychecks.

Elise sat down at her desk, a desk that had taken her years of hard work to earn. She had _earned_ her nameplate on the smooth mahogany table. She was a woman who made her own living. _And what kind of life is it that you've made for yourself, Elise_? A troubling voice whispered at the back of Elise's mind. _Is it one that you're proud of?_ She tried to push the thoughts away, but the voice continued to rasp on. _This is the life you've chosen. Have any regrets?_ She tried to tell herself firmly, _No, I don't regret any of the choices I've made... After all I've worked for... How could I _not _be proud of all of this? _Where were these thoughts coming from? They often reemerged in the corner of Elise's consciousness, especially as of late. Too often, to be honest...

"Um... Ms. Mcfield?"

Elise blinked and stared back at the intern with a concerned look on her face.

"Repeat that please, Jen."

The intern paused for a second, still looking at Elise, then reiterated.

"You have two new manuscripts in for you," she placed them on the desk. "Also, Mr. Ross has agreed to fly in on Wednesday."

"Excellent. We'll have a luncheon. Anything else?"

"Er..." The intern juggled with the envelopes to sneak a peak at her clipboard. "Oh! A Dr. Ratner from Columbia University called you. He left a message. Something about one of his students' manuscripts."

_What manuscript? Which one? _Elise sifted through the countless tan envelopes. "I'll have to get back to him. What was his number?" Jen wrote it down for her. "Thank you, Jen." The intern left, casting one last skeptical look at Elise.

Elise was alone now. The office was rather quiet, despite the sounds of telephones, keyboard clicking, and soft murmurs that Elise could hear resounding from the door. Solitude. Elise's best friend.

She turned her gaze back to her desk. She continued searching for the manuscript recommended by the Columbia professor. _Where did I put it? _She finally found it, lying under rejected papers with Elise's handwriting all over it with blood-red ink. She held it in her hands tenderly. The envelope was badly wrinkled. It must have been smothered by the other packages for at least a week. She undid the gold brad and slipped out the contents of the envelope. The paper was smooth and unwrinkled unlike the envelope that had encased it. The presentation of the cover seemed clean, the format well-done. Its flawlessness took Elise by surprise. She scanned the cover page.

_Silverware in the Sink_, the title read. She flipped through the manuscript. It was thick and seemed rather long. She would have to start now if she wanted to get through the entire thing.

She took another sip of her coffee, grabbed her favorite correcting pen, and turned to the first page.

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><p><em>She stood at the door, one hand lifted, her mouth partly open in mid-speech. Her face was cemented in a silent scream, a ple<em>_a that the man leaving the driveway could not hear. She did not dare move her feet, for she knew that even if she did try to run after him, it would be no use. The tears ran from her eyes, and little did she know, but the man could see them and her shrinking form out of his rearview mirror. He-_

"Ms. Mcfield?"

_Damn._ Elise looked up from her desk. "_Yes,_ Jen?" She said it a little too aggressively, and the intern was taken aback. Elise softened her voice, noticing this. "Sorry...What is it?"

"A woman called you. Said her name was Ada Mcfield. A relative of yours?"

"Yes." Elise sighed deeply. _Of all the times, my mother has the nerve to call me now? When I'm working? _"I'll be sure to call her back. Thank you, Jen."

Jen lingered by the doorway.

"Will there be anyth-"

_Jesus_. "No, that'll be all, Jen," Elise cut in.

Jill blinked and nodded, leaving the office. Elise rolled her eyes. _Interns_. She turned back to the manuscript in her hands.

_He kept his hands steady on the steering wheel, his face rigid. His eyes concentrated on the unpaved road ahead of him to pursue the storm clouds that loomed overhead. Cassie understood that Simon was never going to turn that car around, that he was never going to return, period. Well, fuck him, Cassie thought. Let him go ahead and chase damn mermaids! She went back inside. She had plenty of time still left in her hands. She should at least get started on the dishes. She went over to the sink and took a sponge. She scrubbed at forks, spoons, and knives until they gleamed in the harsh white light. Suddenly, something took over her. She began to shake violently. She sobbed, squeezing the sponge in her hand, and the just-washed forks and spoons loudly plummeted to the cold, hard wooden floor. Cassie crouched over and, with much effort, she attempted to clean up the mess she made. But it was no use. They were dirty again. She did not wash them a second time. Instead, she decided to leave the silverware in the sink. _

_She left the kitchen and slowly made her way back to her bed. That night, she had fits of nightmares and crying. The pillowcases were stained with her tears. Just outside, the storm broke out. Cassie could hear the rain pelting the roof, the wind as it rattled against the window. She could almost feel that cruel wind rattle her own bones. She soon grew exhausted and fell deeply asleep. She was not awake when morning broke. Her eyes were not open to even notice the sun's fingers reaching out from the storm, the clouds parting, creating light out of darkness... _

When Elise finally did finish the book, she sat staring at the the empty space beneath the last paragraph. She was dumbstruck at the incredibilty she had just read. Elise was one who was not easily impressed and she had to admit - this one of those diamonds in the rough that _did _happen to impress her. The office window caught Elise's eye. She was astonished to see that the city outside was enfolded with darkness. She glanced at the clock on her desk. It was 7:52 P.M. She had been at work the whole day. Elise could not remember the last time when she had been so engrossed with reading a story, so much that she would block out the rest of the world.

But how could she help it? She found herself fancying the idea that the manuscript in her hands could be a real bestseller, one that she had had not seen in a long while. She searched around for the number the intern had given her. She found it and grabbed the phone. It rang a couple times until someone picked up at the other end.

"Hello?" a voice crackled on the other end.

"Dr. Ratner?" Elise held the phone in one hand and fingered the manuscript with the other. She found the envelope that it had came in. As she brought it closer to her, she found that there were a couple of papers left inside it. She reached in and took them out.

"Yes. May I ask who is calling?" Dr. Ratner voice responded.

"This is Elise Mcfield. I'm an editor at Random House." Elise found that the papers included the author's information and credentials. She found the name of the mind behind _Silverware in the Sink_. Jamie Wellerstein. _Must be Jewish_, Elise thought, almost disdainfully. _Probably some fifty-three year-old_ _crackhead who just happens to be a great writer. _She continue to read down the paper.

"And how can I be of assistance?" Dr. Ratner asked.

Elise turned the paper over, and found interesting facts. Mr. Wellerstein was only _twenty-three_. That was crazy young for such a brilliant writer. He resided in Ohio, which was also surprising. Who knew genius writers hid out there? She addressed Dr. Atkins "I'm calling about a certain student of yours..." Then at the bottom, she found a picture of Mr. Wellerstein himself.

"Oh? And who would that be?" inquired Dr. Ratner. But Elise was no longer listening.

Her eyes were transfixed on the man depicted in the picture. It was a black and white head-shot, but it couldn't have seen more striking to Elise. Her mouth fell out a little and remained open, not a sound escaping her lips. So he was Jewish. Attended Columbia University. Lived in Cincinnati, Ohio. The bio had all the professional information there, but it failed to mention the man's looks. Bright eyes stared up at her, his face framed by a brick backdrop. It was a smart face, brows arched but not intimidatingly. A crooked smile. Under that smile, Elise could not help but see that he was indeed promising. And _handsome_. And yet...

What was it, exactly, that made Elise so fascinated with him? He was just another writer, after all. But Elise could not put her finger on what it was that tugged at her. She could barely think at all.

"...Hello...?" Dr. Ratner's voice sounded on the other line, abruptly shaking Elise from her stupor. She shook her head and looked away from the paper, only to have her eyes drawn back to the picture again.

"Dr. Ratner," Elise started, holding the paper to eye level now. "What do you know about Jamie Wellerstein?"

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><p><strong>AN: (1) The excerpt of Jamie's book is inspired by an old draft of Jason Robert Brown's book of The Last 5 Years. During the book-reading scene (in-between "Climbing Uphill") the last words of the chapter Jamie read, "...silverware in the sink" were written as a stage cue. I deduce that Jason rewrote Jamie's entire chapter. The words "...silverware in the sink" became "...but he couldn't hear it at all." I played on the mermaid motif, just cause I love it so much :) (find the original cast's performance on YouTube**** and start on 4:****45 ****to watch the chapter-reading with the always-amazing Norbert Leo Butz). I do not own "silverware in the sink" or "but he couldn't hear it at all."**

**(2) Yes, Elise lives at Park Imperial, though I'm not entirely sure editors make enough to afford it... But whatever. It makes her life more fancy-schmancy and somewhat on an isolated, untouchable pedestal. Hmmm.. Review? :)**


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